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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27005614">Wake</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu'>Nununununu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Caretaking, Don't copy to another site, First Meetings, Injury, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Rescue, enchanted forest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:15:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,483</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27005614</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan never tends to zone out when driving, so it comes as a shock to realise that he doesn’t know where he is.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bigfoot-Type Ape Man/Long-Haul Trucker, Original Male Character/Original Male Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Canon Ball 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/gifts">sweetcarolanne</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A gift for sweetcarolanne :)</p>
<p>Mild TW for a brief non-graphic attack by an unknown animal; resolved without injury to it.</p>
<p>(Originally posted 17.10; updated for author reveals)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Dan never tends to zone out when driving, so it comes as a shock to realise that he doesn’t know where he is.</p>
<p>Which is impossible, he <em>always</em> knows where he is, except the radio’s gone silent except for a fuzz of static and his phone on the seat beside him must have run out of battery even though he plugged it in to charge earlier, as nothing happens when he cautiously takes a hand off the wheel to poke at it, and the road beyond the windscreen is gone.</p>
<p>“<em>What</em>.”</p>
<p>It can’t be <em>gone</em>.</p>
<p>It’s dark as anything out there, sure; last he checked – how long ago <em>was</em> that? – it was heading on two a.m. He’s a little tired, but he knows his limits and he knows how to avoid being exhausted enough to risk nodding off – he took a short nap earlier after freshening up quickly at a rest stop, and then had a cup of takeaway coffee and some sort of sandwich as a snack, not great food, but he’s sworn off burgers for the time being, given he’s been doing this job for four months now and eating them as often as he had been is enough to put anyone off. He can eat them again next month, if he manages to actually cook something other than freezer food on his days off between jobs – when, really, all he pretty much manages to do is the laundry, never quite manage to catch up with other accumulating household tasks, and <em>sleep</em> –</p>
<p>And none of this is relevant anyway, because seriously –</p>
<p>The road’s not there.</p>
<p>The headlights are just picking up – hell, it looks very much like the headlights are abruptly somehow picking up <em>trees</em> when there shouldn’t be any there; Dan knows this route or should do – he’s driven it half a dozen times so far<em>.</em> Still, monochrome branches slide out of that darkness to brush at the sides of the truck, scraping over the edges of the windscreen.</p>
<p>He’s never liked that; the way it sounds like fingernails scratching at the glass.</p>
<p>“Okaaay, getting a bit weirded out now,” Dan’s feet shift instinctively as he squints out of the windscreen, checking it’s going to be safe to brake, except – except there <em>is</em> some sort of track now – nothing as much as a road, but a rough path through the trees the truck’s not at all suited for.</p>
<p>Both hands firmly back on the wheel, he stops.</p>
<p>Has to just sit there for a bit and breathe, because there are little round lights appearing between those branches, deeper in that darkness, looking like they’re bobbing about at about knee height, and <em>what the hell </em>–</p>
<p>He’s not normally one to get easily creeped. He’s used to spending long hours and days on his own; would say that he prefers it really – it’s certainly less fraught than his old job, a thankless nine-to-five plus constant overtime in an office, spending all day stuffed in his cramped little cubicle, hands wracked with carpel tunnel as he squinted at a screen.</p>
<p>His back aches a bit at the memory of hunching over in front of the computer now – at least here in the truck he can listen to audiobooks or the radio, thumbing through the channels as they fade out, or perch his coffee cup in the drink holder with a cookie balanced on top, or talk to himself or the world around him, and – and those little round lights have formed a trail and are winding through the dark shapes of tree trunks towards him.</p>
<p>“Right, that’s enough of this,” Backing the truck up a road – track – he doesn’t know isn’t really something he wants to do without working out where the hell he is, for a start. He needs to figure that out, do a quick check on the cargo just in case, and get going again. Time not driving is time he’s not making money and, while that seems awfully mercenary, the pay’s not great for someone without more experience than he has yet and even if he’s not buying burgers, he needs to eat.</p>
<p>Picking up the baseball bat he keeps down in the footwell, he tells himself he’s overreacting, that the lights are just some sort of weird lightning or something – ball lightning’s a thing, right? Even if he doesn’t have much of a clue what it is – and tugs the collar of his jacket up higher, before swinging the door to the cab open and making sure to shut and lock it behind him, and pocket the keys.</p>
<p>The soles of his boots crush crisp leaves beneath them when he hops down from the cab and lands. There’s mud too, coating the big wheels, and the night time chill of this forest somehow around him certainly <em>feels</em> real.</p>
<p>The howl of – of <em>something</em> sounds damnably real too.</p>
<p>“Ah,” Dan discovers that he’s shaking about two seconds before he realises that his old carpal tunnel’s kicked in and his hands are determined to cramp. He hasn’t been bothered by it for ages; had had to do all kinds of tests before the doctor would agree to pass him on the medical test for his current job, but –</p>
<p>The howl sounds again, louder, <em>nearer</em>, and Dan fumbles with the bat, fumbles with the keys, tries to climb back up into the truck again even as the strange little lights bob towards him, around him, and parts of the forest look like they’re illuminated now in a different way, glowing flowers opening either side of the rough track in a way that shouldn’t be possible; pinks and blues, purples and reds, petals all unfurling to shine candle-like between the roots and on the trunks of the trees.</p>
<p>It’s beautiful. It’s also kind of terrifying, in a way he can’t fully explain. Moss blooms in silver patterns on the tree trunks, and countless leaves rustle overhead even though there’s no breeze.</p>
<p>He’s alone, but – he’s sure he’s alone but –</p>
<p>“<em>Ah –!</em>” The feeling of sharp teeth clamping around his ankle through his jeans makes him yelp, kicking out hastily at whatever it is in the moment before pain hits and he staggers. There’s a growl from right next to him as he snatches his leg away, and he swings around frantically to see <em>something</em>, perhaps a wolf – <em>would a wolf behave like this? – </em>crouching down low before it launches itself at his throat with fangs bared.</p>
<p>“Shit! <em>Help!</em>”</p>
<p>He has no idea why he says the latter, why the plea jerks out of him, but it does and –</p>
<p>A broad hand closes over his shoulder and he’s drawn to one side almost gently, as a truly massive figure leans in from over his other side and growls right back at the animal intent on attacking him.</p>
<p>It’s a wonderfully deep thunder of a growl, rolling right through Dan and sending the wolf or whatever it is skittering back a few steps with its ears going back and tail limp, before it streaks away between the trees.</p>
<p>“Oh – oh fuck – <em>thank you</em>,” Dropping the bat in sheer relief, Dan winces as he puts his weight on his injured ankle as he turns to face his rescuer. The strange little lights are bobbing around his head now – both of their heads – dizzying, making him struggle to make out – to make out –</p>
<p>The tall, very tall, figure of his rescuer isn’t human. There’s – there’s a face looking down at him from that great height, dark eyes that seem somehow wise and a little inquisitive both at once, a broad face Dan maybe only thinks he sees something much like kindness on, and – and instead of hair, the figure has a whole lot of dark fur, and –</p>
<p>“Ah –” Maybe it’s the shock or the unexpected injury or a bit of both, but the little lights seem blinding now, his awareness dwindling down into nothing.</p>
<p>The last thing he’s aware of for a while is of the great figure moving in carefully closer, strong arms almost tenderly gathering him in against that broad chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>**</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wakes with a start, to the discovery he’s on his back outside in the early morning sunshine, lying in a soft nest of flowers and young leaves, his boot off and the leg of his torn jeans pulled up to reveal his injured ankle, around which long dark green leaves are wrapped in a rudimentary dressing.</p>
<p>Sucking in a breath, Dan goes to push himself up on his elbow, and sees the massive figure of his rescuer from last night crouched an arm’s length away, dark eyes on his face as those huge hands place something down next to the edge of the nest – an assortment of unfamiliar pale blue and green fruits with shimmering pastel skins. A swift look around them reveals large star-like flowers clinging to the trunks and roots of the trees, not as bright now in the sunlight as they were last night, but still unlike anything Dan’s ever seen. The trees themselves tower overhead, pale grey leaves dappled with wetness as if it rained a little earlier, but the density of the canopy here kept him from getting wet. In the sunshine, the droplets look like tiny stars.</p>
<p>It feels like he’s caught in a dream, but this is real, it’s <em>real</em> somehow; he’s sure of it.</p>
<p>There’s no sign of his truck through the gaps between the tree trunks. When Dan turns back to his rescuer, the massive ape-like figure has retreated a few metres, watching him. Something about his stance makes Dan certain he’s about to leave.</p>
<p>“No, I –” Speaking instinctively, Dan bites his lip on a wince as he shifts, the movement aggravating the wounds on his leg. He reaches out towards his rescuer, “Don’t go? You saved me, didn’t you.” Made the nest for him too, saw to his injury, brought him food and protected him from the wolf – or whatever the other creature had been.</p>
<p>Everything that’s happened is so strange and difficult to believe, but Dan’s chest still hurts a little with the strength of the feelings that assault him at the thought of this stranger’s kindness, looking into that calm, intelligent face.</p>
<p>“You didn’t have to do all this. But you did and I’m grateful,” He can’t say whether his rescuer understands him at all. Picking up some of the shimmering fruit, hoping the gesture won’t be misconstrued, Dan holds it out, “Please. I want to thank you.” There’s not much else he can offer. “Share these with me?”</p>
<p>“Hrmm,” It’s a low sound, not so much hesitant, but more like his rescuer is sizing him up. Dan remains half on his back, his body language open, heartbeat picking up when the huge figure slowly draws nearer, carefully reaching out.</p>
<p>Large, lightly furred fingers close around the unfamiliar fruit, knuckles brushing Dan’s palm. Looking into his rescuer’s face – his features part ape and part man, coming together to form something almost noble and truly unique – Dan gasps a little at the touch.</p>
<p>“Hrmm,” Nodding just once, his rescuer slaps his other hand open-palmed against his chest, then bites into the fruit, before nodding again.</p>
<p>“Okay?” Dan brings one of the fruits up to his own mouth, aware of how closely his rescuer is watching him. The pastel-shaded skin of the fruit smells pleasant, which isn’t to say it will taste it or even be something a human can eat – it’s certainly not something on sale in the supermarkets. But he watches those big, blunt teeth as his rescuer bites down on his own fruit again, and the scent of the juice is also pleasant, and there’s nothing aggressive in the other male’s face. He seems merely – expectant.</p>
<p>Dan bites cautiously into his own fruit and startles at the burst of juice that floods onto his tongue. It’s delicious. After a few seconds in which his stomach doesn’t rebel, he eats.</p>
<p>“Unnn,” His rescuer bobs his head again, slaps his chest, and pushes more of the fruit towards Dan with the back of his knuckles. Easing himself up so he’s sitting, Dan thanks him.</p>
<p>When they’ve finished their breakfast, his rescuer prods carefully at Dan’s ankle – Dan hisses and winces on peeling the leaves away enough to check the wounds, finding them tender and a bit swollen, but thankfully without obvious sign of infection – and then a great hand wraps around his elbow with more gentleness than he expects, drawing him up to his feet.</p>
<p>He’s led, leaning on the stranger a bit, through the trees, down to where there’s a stream. Everything around them looks fresh and a little otherworldly, and part of Dan can’t help but think he should be freaking out; that he should be trying to escape.</p>
<p>But his rescuer drinks calmly from the stream, using his broad hand as a cup, water spilling from his fingers to dapple the dark fur where it thins over his massive chest, and Dan darts a look at him, inhaling shallowly at the sight he makes, and also drinks.</p>
<p>The ape-man, the other man, his rescuer – he seems so steady it’s difficult to remember him roaring at the animal that attacked Dan last night. But it’s reassuring too. If he doesn’t find his truck and get back to the road – which he ought to want to; ought to be hurrying to find it, wherever it is – today, then somehow he has the feeling this gentle giant will look out for him again when the night comes.</p>
<p>No one –</p>
<p>No one, in honesty, has ever really looked out for him like this. It makes Dan duck into himself a little, hunching his shoulders slightly when his rescuer shifts nearer and those impressive hands go into his hair, brushing through it, grooming him.</p>
<p>Dan’s never been one to believe in the paranormal or in magic or – or <em>Bigfoot</em>, if that’s who his rescuer is. He’s also never been one to not believe in the evidence of his own eyes – last night is the closest he’s come.</p>
<p>Those little round lights flicker into being and rise up around them as they sit near the stream, dancing glowing orbs that look golden now in the day’s sunshine. Dan dares to carefully reach out in offer, holding his breath as his heart beats harder than ever as his rescuer bends his own head almost regally in acceptance of the offer, so Dan can sift through that fur in return.</p>
<p>He’s sure this is real. He’s sure of it – and it feels so <em>right</em>, he can’t help but let their fingers tangle together when his rescuer reaches up to touch his hand almost wonderingly, an almost crooning vocalisation rumbling deep in the ape-man’s throat.</p>
<p>If Dan’s wrong, though, and this is a dream?</p>
<p>He’s already growing more and more certain he wants to stay in it.</p>
<p> </p>
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